“And if you’re going to stay with Shep,” the girl went on, her eyes averted, “it means—that you’re going to stay with the sheep?” He smiled strangely. “Could I ever leave them, Alice?” He groped for words, but none had ever been invented that could reveal the sudden, moving impulses of his soul. “I can’t tell you how much it has all meant—how much it will mean in the future. Don’t you see, Alice—that this is my rightful place? With the sheep? In the wilderness? I couldn’t go—even if you sent me away, I’d have to go into the sheep business on my own account.” “That’s right—you could. You could raise money——” He suddenly laughed,—in sheer delight. His wealth—forgotten in the great vaults in an Eastern city—would be of use to him, after all. In a few breathless sentences he told her of his past life, his wasted days, and his regeneration. They would fill the hills with the feeding flocks, these two. Still they would know the comradeship of the camp fire, the night wind whispering through the secret places. It was their heritage, and they would not forego it. They were the shepherds, and this was their destiny. “And if we’re both going to have old Shep, and both follow the flocks—there’s another consideration, too,” Hugh went on. “Maybe it’s too much to ask. But the soldier has seen _some_ service; and he can’t restrain himself any longer. We’ve got to have each other, too.” A strong man’s love looked out to her from his eyes, and his face was sober and wistful with entreaty. There was just one instant in which the whole world hung suspended over a pit of darkness. And then, with a glad little cry, she stole into his arms. “Each other—always,” she told him. “Oh, shepherd of my heart!” * * * * * And perhaps the spirit of the Old Colonel—sitting in the Greenwood Club and dreaming of the mountain realms he loved—came wandering over peak and plain and saw these two, their arms about each other and their eyes lighted with fond dreams—and swiftly stole back to make its report to its master. And thereupon the old man smiled in his half-doze, wondering at the mighty ways of worlds and men,—and the calm spirit of the flocks, grazing in the forest. THE END * * * * * Transcriber’s Notes: Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Obvious punctuation and typesetting errors have been corrected without note. Where multiple spellings were found, majority use has been employed. [End of _Shepherds of the Wild_ by Edison Marshall]